


stages of denial (and realizing you’re already in too deep)

by jjokkiri



Category: UP10TION
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Childhood Friends, Feelings Realization, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjokkiri/pseuds/jjokkiri
Summary: Jinhyuk notices a little more every day. Wooseok doesn’t change at all.
Relationships: Kim Wooseok | Wooshin/Lee Jinhyuk
Comments: 15
Kudos: 62





	stages of denial (and realizing you’re already in too deep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galacticnik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/gifts).



> for my dearest friend nik ♡ happy birthday! i’m sorry that this isn’t really [vague hand gestures] _great_ , but i do hope this is decent enough to bring you some joy!

It happens gradually.

It’s something that starts so subtly that Jinhyuk doesn’t notice anything change between them at all.

Everything continues to work as it always has. Their dynamic is typical: they’re best friends and they spend every weekend together, just as they had done since they were eight. They aren’t kids anymore, but it’s the same.

Wooseok crashes at Jinhyuk’s place on Friday night and they do stupid things together as best friends do. He tags along with him when they get out of their last lecture and stays until 10 p.m. More often than not, they spend their time playing games together on Jinhyuk’s roommate’s Switch or rating bad horror movies together.

Sometimes, Wooseok sneaks over to Jinhyuk’s apartment in the middle of the week after his lectures because he doesn’t want to study for his exams and he insists they watch a movie together instead. Sometimes, Jinhyuk’s roommate joins in, always sitting on the couch across from them. It’s all typical for them.

Somewhere across fifteen years of becoming so comfortable with Wooseok, something changes.

Jinhyuk doesn’t notice the shift.

(He doesn’t notice until he’s too far gone.)

The truth is, it isn’t something sudden enough to notice. It isn’t the feeling you get when you have a strange dream that gives you a two-day crush on your friend and makes everything awkward. But neither is it the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night, looking over at Wooseok curled up like a sleepy kitten on the sofa and being pulled into a trance where he hears his heart thudding loudly in his chest along with a whirlwind realization that he might be in love with his best friend.

It happens gradually until it doesn’t. Until one day, there’s a searing flash somewhere in his chest when he looks at Wooseok when he throws his head back and laughs at something on the television screen and he thinks:

_Oh. This is dangerous._

And he has no idea where it started.

* * *

“I think I’ll head out now.”

Wooseok stands up from the sofa and stretches. He glances at the clock mounted on the wall. It’s nine on a Wednesday night and Jinhyuk knows that Wooseok has an early class in the morning.

“It’s getting late,” he says. He bends down to pick up the empty Styrofoam containers of takeout and stacks them onto each other to help Jinhyuk clean up.

“Leave it,” Jinhyuk says, swatting at him with his foot. His eyes are still trained on the television where his tiny game character is scrolling across a map. “I’ll clean it up later.”

Wooseok rolls his eyes at him.

“If I don’t clean up after us, this is all still going to be here the next time I come over.”

Jinhyuk sniffs at him. He can’t deny it, though, so he shuts up. He and his roommate have always been prone to leaving their takeout containers out on the counter. Without Wooseok, they would be living in a pig pen (and Jinhyuk assumes that’s why Minsoo doesn’t mind seeing Wooseok at their place all the time).

The front door clicks and Jinhyuk’s roommate steps through.

Minsoo chucks his shoes off and takes one glance at Wooseok. Wooseok’s presence in their apartment is so normal now that Minsoo doesn’t look surprised to see Wooseok in their apartment. But he _does_ furrow his eyebrows a little when he notices that Wooseok is only dressed in a thin pullover.

“You’re leaving already?” he asks, frowning. He doesn’t wait for a response, already knowing the answer because Wooseok never stands up to clean the containers if he isn’t leaving. Minsoo glances back at the door, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to gesture outside, “It’s cold out.”

“I’ll be fine,” Wooseok replies with a polite smile.

Minsoo gives him a funny smile and glances past him at Jinhyuk. He quirks at eyebrow at the tall boy sprawled on the couch.

“Hey,” he says, “what are you doing? Get your boyfriend a jacket or something.”

Jinhyuk sniffs at him. He drops the game controller beside him and lolls his head back against the couch to glare at Minsoo, “Stop calling him that. I’ll get us both one. I’m walking him home anyway.”

He misses the way that Wooseok freezes up a little and the Styrofoam container just barely slips out of his grasp.

 _“Ooh,”_ Minsoo drones, wiggling his fingers dramatically with a roll of his eyes. He’s teasing, but it sounds even more obnoxious than it usually does. “He’s not your boyfriend, but you walk him home every day. _Sure_.”

Then, without another word, Minsoo vanishes into his room. The door clicks closed behind him.

When Jinhyuk looks at Wooseok to apologize for Minsoo’s behaviour, Wooseok is smiling at him. His eyes glitter and he looks so amused that Jinhyuk’s voice dies in the back of his throat.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and motions for Wooseok to follow him.

“Let’s go,” he mutters.

* * *

The coat that Jinhyuk lends to Wooseok is big enough to swallow him whole. He earns himself a glare when he hands the coat to Wooseok because it seems Wooseok always knows when he’s teasing him.

Still, he takes it without complaints.

Somehow, it ignites something warm in Jinhyuk’s chest. It feels like a flickering flame that spreads slowly across his body; something that makes him smile. He thinks it might be fondness.

Wooseok looks tiny walking a couple of steps ahead of him, wrapped up in the warmth of the blue coat. The smaller man is whistling the tune of a pop song that Jinhyuk doesn’t know the name of.

Jinhyuk trails behind him, watching him quietly.

 _He’s cute_ , he thinks. _Always has been._

“You walk so slowly,” Wooseok comments, snapping Jinhyuk out of his thoughts.

Jinhyuk frowns.

“Someone has to watch your back if you don’t,” he replies.

“You’ve got long legs and nothing to show for it,” Wooseok teases. He turns on his heel and sticks his tongue out at Jinhyuk.

It’s so childish and it draws a small smile from Jinhyuk. He rolls his eyes.

Wooseok’s eyes are bright when he sticks out his hand and smiles. Jinhyuk feels something surging in his chest, the temptation to reach out and take Wooseok’s hand. But he knows that if he takes his hand, he won’t want to let go. So, he keeps his hands by his sides. _Keeps quiet._

“You’re walking me home, so walk _with_ me,” Wooseok says, “not behind me.”

Jinhyuk makes a face at him, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just takes a long stride forward and catches up to Wooseok. He reaches out to swat the smaller man’s hand away.

They fall into a comfortable silence again, the sound of their footsteps tapping against the concrete and the quiet sound of their breathing filling the space between them. This is familiar to them; this is what is comfortable. But for whatever reason, Jinhyuk feels a childish need to close the gap between them—feign a slip in his steps and gently brush Wooseok’s side. He ignores the feeling.

 _It’s weird to have a crush on your best friend,_ he reminds himself.

But even as he reminds himself, Jinhyuk dares to steal a glance at Wooseok.

He dares to indulge himself in admiring the smaller man when he isn’t looking at him.

It’s the riskiest thing he is willing to do with their friendship.

It seems Jinhyuk knows Wooseok too well because when he steals a glance, he isn’t looking at him. He’s looking straight ahead as he walks.

Silently, Wooseok raises his hands to adjust the strap of his bag against his body.

They’re close enough that their fingers brush when Wooseok’s hands fall back to his side and Jinhyuk feels electricity run across his body.

He feels his cheeks flush with heat. He shoves his hand into the pocket of his coat and looks away.

He doesn’t think he can take the realization that he might like Wooseok more than he thought he did.

(He misses the way that Wooseok glances briefly at him before he looks away with a small smile on his lips.)

* * *

Wooseok doesn’t live very far from him, but he always feels the need to walk him back.

The walk always feels too short and too long at the same time. Jinhyuk doesn’t ever feel ready to say goodnight when they reach the entrance of Wooseok’s apartment building.

“Well,” he says, as they approach the steel gates.

“Well?” Wooseok glances at him.

Jinhyuk flashes him a sheepish smile.

“Here we are,” he says.

“Here we are.” Wooseok echoes him and Jinhyuk can hear the way his tone lilts with amusement.

He doesn’t give Wooseok the chance to tease him for sounding so awkward with his goodbyes.

“I’ll leave when I see you go in,” he says.

“Hm?” Wooseok turns to look at Jinhyuk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. There’s something else that is captivating in the way the light catches in his eyes—prettier than the stars twinkling above them—and Jinhyuk finds himself unable to look away from him. Wooseok folds his hands behind his back and leans forward, looking at him from under long, pretty lashes. “No goodnight kisses?”

Everything freezes.

The world stills around Jinhyuk.

Everything seems to move around him in slow motion before it comes to a halt.

He takes a moment to register Wooseok’s words, reeling with the possibilities; _all the possibilities that his mind likes to foolishly conjure whenever he’s alone with Wooseok._

Jinhyuk swallows around the nerves tightening in the back of his throat.

“What?” he croaks. His voice sounds so weak to himself that he feels pathetic.

Wooseok laughs at him. It’s a bright, natural sound; something that Jinhyuk is used to hearing.

It’s the laugh that tinkles so delicately that it feels like little butterflies are bursting in Jinhyuk’s stomach. It’s the laugh that Jinhyuk has heard for the past fifteen years of his life. It’s the laugh that he never really knows what to think of because somewhere along the pathway to becoming too comfortable with Wooseok, the way he felt about the sound seemed to shift into a bursting note of affection.

But, no matter what, it’s the same laugh that reminds him that Wooseok is joking with him, as he always is.

Wooseok shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a step back.

“I’m _kidding_ ,” he says.

Jinhyuk’s heart drops. _It’s what drags him back to reality._

But along with the drop, Jinhyuk feels his world slowly begin to turn again. And as the world resumes spinning, Wooseok turns on his heel to glance at the gate to his home. Somehow, something in Jinhyuk feels like it deflates, almost as if he was hoping that Wooseok _wasn’t_ kidding.

But he shouldn’t be thinking too much about Wooseok in a rosy light. He knows better than that.

 _Wooseok doesn’t like him like that,_ he reminds himself.

Wooseok seems to sense that Jinhyuk isn’t paying attention to him anymore; it shows in the way that his posture shifts just slightly, just enough to draw Jinhyuk’s attention back to him. It always works.

He glances over at Jinhyuk over his shoulder again. Jinhyuk meets his eyes immediately.

“Thanks for walking me home,” he says. “You know, you don’t have to keep doing that.”

Jinhyuk frowns. He argues, “I’ve been walking you home every day since we were eight.”

Wooseok raises his eyebrow.

“Is that supposed to mean something special? I’m not eight anymore,” Wooseok says. He quickly corrects himself, “ _We_ aren’t eight anymore.” He glances up at him and something flickers across his eyes. He says, “We’re not kids, Jinhyuk. We’re old enough to know what we want to do.”

Jinhyuk scrunches up his nose. He crosses his arms over his chest and frowns.

“Kids or not, I’m not going to let you walk home alone in the middle of the night if I can go with you,” he says. “I’m not walking you home every time you stay over at my place because of a promise I made your mother when we were children.”

Wooseok flashes a small smile. Then, he laughs (and there’s something different about this one).

Something flickers in his eyes, and Jinhyuk feels a burst of nerves spark through him. For a split second, he’s afraid that Wooseok might ask him for the reason that he walks him home. He doesn’t think he can admit it.

_Not aloud._

Wooseok doesn’t, though. His eyes glimmer knowingly, but he doesn’t say it. He simply asks:

“And who will walk you home after you walk me home?”

Jinhyuk scoffs at that—a huff of air in place of a real answer.

Heat spikes at the back of his neck; flustered. He runs his fingers through his hair and looks away. He doesn’t have a real answer to the question and he avoids Wooseok’s eyes in an attempt to change the topic.

No one is going to walk him home at the end of the night after he drops Wooseok off. He knows that.

He knows that, and it’s okay. It’s okay because that isn’t what he’s looking for.

He doesn’t need anyone to walk him home. He just needs an excuse to stay by Wooseok’s side for just a little bit longer.

No matter how weak the excuse is.

Jinhyuk knows the truth is he never has a reason to walk Wooseok home in the middle of the night. Or at least, he doesn’t have a reason good enough to voice. And knowing that, he always defaults to the insistence that they’ve done it for too long to give up on it now.

But the truth is that he knows: all he wants is to selfishly spend a little more time with Wooseok by his side.

It’s simple, it’s self-indulgence.

Wooseok is his best friend. There isn’t a good enough reason for him to need to find excuses to spend time with him. There also isn’t a good enough reason for him to trail behind Wooseok whenever he leaves Jinhyuk’s apartment.

But he doesn’t have the guts to gather his nerves to ask, ‘ _Hey, do you want to just stay for the night? It’s late.’_

All he can do is offer to walk him home.

And it doesn’t matter because Wooseok always lets him.

“One of these days,” Jinhyuk says, “you’re going to miss having me walk you home all the time.”

“Will you stop?” Wooseok’s eyes flicker to him. His lips purse, but it’s gone as soon as it happens. Wooseok’s expression is unreadable again. It feels like a genuine question.

“Only if you want me to,” Jinhyuk replies.

He’s too honest. He feels his own words make his stomach lurch with nerves and he hopes that Wooseok can’t read him as well as he knows he can. He knows it’s futile to hope, though.

There is that mischievous glint in Wooseok’s eyes, again. The one that makes Jinhyuk feel like the air has been knocked out of him. This time, it’s accompanied by a playful smile and Jinhyuk _knows_ he’s screwed.

Wooseok doesn’t say anything, though.

“Okay,” Wooseok laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The soft _‘yeah’_ barely leaves Jinhyuk’s mouth, but they’re standing so close together that he knows Wooseok heard it. Even if it’s just from the puff of smoke that leaves Jinhyuk’s mouth when he breathes it out.

And when Wooseok steps away from the steel gate, his fingertips catch Jinhyuk’s wrist briefly to grab his attention when he whispers his _‘goodnight’_ —as if it ever drifts away from him. Wooseok must run hot because the touch burns against Jinhyuk’s skin.

It stays warm long after Wooseok disappears into the building.

Jinhyuk’s resolve breaks.

He spends the rest of the week with his mind lingering on the way Wooseok’s eyes twinkled when he asked for a goodnight kiss, and the way his fingertips burned against his wrist for a moment too long.

He thinks, _Maybe, there’s a chance hiding somewhere there._

* * *

“You should say something,” Minsoo says when Jinhyuk comes into the kitchen for a bottle of water. Minsoo is sprawled over their kitchen table with a massive diorama spread across it. Jinhyuk still doesn’t know what he’s building for his final project (nor does he know why they must have their meals on the floor to not disturb the diorama), but Minsoo’s words are more important to him at the moment.

Jinhyuk cracks open the water bottle. He frowns, “Say what?”

Minsoo drops the miniature window and looks at Jinhyuk over his shoulder, holding himself up with his elbows. It clatters against the table’s surface as if emphasizing the comedic effect of the way Minsoo’s eyes bulge at him.

Jinhyuk tilts his head, his eyebrow arched.

 _“Something,”_ he repeats. Minsoo says it in a way that makes Jinhyuk feel like his roommate is speaking to a child. “Preferably about how you’re in love with your best friend. But we can start small if you want to start small.”

Jinhyuk chokes on his water. He slams his water bottle down onto the table. The impact causes one of the light fixtures on Minsoo’s diorama to clatter to the table. Minsoo barely reacts.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Jinhyuk,” Minsoo says, gingerly picking up the fallen piece. He takes a step back to analyze where the piece had fallen from. He frowns, “Even he already knows.”

_What?_

“What?” he says.

Minsoo fixes the piece back with a small amount of superglue, humming as if they were having a conversation about the weather. As far as Jinhyuk is concerned, they’re _not_. Anything regarding Wooseok is all sirens and alarms.

“Wooseok,” Minsoo clarifies. “He already knows that you’re in love with him.”

“Who told you that?”

Minsoo gives him a funny smile.

“No one _told_ me that, idiot,” he says. And before Jinhyuk can stupidly blabber (“But _how_ do you know?”), Minsoo adds, “No one needs to tell you things like that. I can just tell when I look at you two. It’s obvious.”

_What is obvious? What?_

Jinhyuk wants to ask, but he just opens and closes his mouth like a speechless fish. Minsoo seems to know exactly what he wants to ask, though. He takes pity on him and answers without Jinhyuk needing to voice his thoughts.

“You’re in love with him,” Minsoo says, smearing a little bit of glue onto another piece. “You look at him like he put the stars in the sky, but it isn’t even a secret. You look at him like that when he looks at you, too. He’d be an idiot if he hasn’t noticed, you know? And I know Wooseok isn’t stupid.”

Jinhyuk falters. He glances at his roommate.

“Are you calling me stupid?”

Minsoo chuckles. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you _think_ it.”

Minsoo shrugs, “If you want me to think that, I will.”

“You don’t need me to tell you to think that,” Jinhyuk frowns.

“And you don’t need me to tell you that you should stop changing the topic, right?”

Jinhyuk freezes. He plays with the paper label of the water bottle, his eyes focused on it.

He takes a breath.

Quietly, he asks, “Do you think I have a chance? If he already knows and hasn’t backed off?”

Minsoo glues a tiny house next to the roadside on his diorama and grins.

“If he knows and hasn’t backed off,” Minsoo replies, “then, he’s in love with you, too.”

Jinhyuk’s heart lurches in his chest.

* * *

_If he hasn’t backed off yet then he’s in love with you, too._

It’s hard to wrap his head around the idea. Jinhyuk never dared to entertain the thought of Wooseok returning his feelings. He’s always been stuck with the idea that it would always be one-sided because best friends simply don’t fall in love with one another like that.

Minsoo makes it sound so easy. But Minsoo makes a lot of things seem easy; he’s brilliant like that.

Jinhyuk doubts that love can be so simple. It doesn’t sound reasonable.

 _This is Wooseok._ Wooseok isn’t simple at all.

Wooseok is a thousand risks merged into one, a whirlwind of careful thoughts that commands a steady approach. He isn’t fragile and their relationship isn’t delicate—Jinhyuk _knows_ that—but the threat of breaking the balance they’ve spent fifteen years developing is a dangerous game Jinhyuk doesn’t know if he’s willing to play. Wooseok is his best friend, the person he grew up with. He should know him like the back of his hand. But Jinhyuk doesn’t know when understanding Wooseok stopped being easy.

It’s weird that somewhere along the way, he lost sight of where exactly he stood on the line that defined their friendship.

Yet, there’s something in his gut that swirls with unreasonable hope that Minsoo might be right.

 _Wooseok doesn’t like him like that,_ it reminds him. _But what if?_

* * *

Jinhyuk doesn’t have the chance to simmer in his thoughts for very long.

In an ideal world, he would have days to think about all the possibilities and the outcomes of taking the risks of _telling_ Wooseok that he might be in love with him— _is, not might,_ he supposes. It would take days and he would still be thinking about it, weeks later.

The world _isn’t_ ideal, though. He doesn’t have that chance though because Wooseok has come over to his place every weekend without fail since they were kids. He doesn’t expect him to break tradition now.

But he doesn’t know how to function in front of his best friend with the realization that there _might_ be a bigger chance that he hoped for. He doesn’t want to act weirdly around him, but there’s a fluttering in his chest every time he thinks about the way that Wooseok’s touch always seems to linger on him.

Minsoo steps out of their apartment with a vague remark about how he’s meeting up with a friend early in the morning, and Jinhyuk is left twiddling his thumbs, waiting for a text from Wooseok.

He thinks that he might be hoping that Wooseok texts him to tell him that he’s _so_ sorry, but his boss called him in for a sudden shift at work. But there’s also that part of him that can’t wait to see Wooseok.

It’s a belated realization that he doesn’t know _what_ he would do when he sees Wooseok. Minsoo didn’t help him through that part of the realization.

The text never comes, though.

Wooseok, as expected, doesn’t cancel on him. He flows with the understanding that they’ll see one another on weekends because that’s how it always has been.

It’s a comfortable understanding between them.

But Jinhyuk wishes he were more prepared for the pattern of Wooseok’s knuckles rapping on the front door.

He nearly stumbles over himself when he throws his phone onto the couch and rushes to open the door.

He thinks his face must be flushed embarrassingly red; he can feel the heat.

He doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of Wooseok, but it seems he can’t help it.

He fumbles with the deadbolt before he manages to unlock it.

And then, he leans against the wall when he opens the door.

“Hey,” he breathes out, his tone weighted with too much air. He sounds winded and he had only moved a couple of meters. He thinks he should feel embarrassed. Wooseok raises an eyebrow at him.

“Hey,” he echoes. “You good?”

Wooseok sidesteps into the apartment, glancing back over his shoulder at Jinhyuk. He bends down to take his shoes off and Jinhyuk’s eyes follow him.

Wooseok looks so comfortable entering Jinhyuk’s apartment like it’s his own. He sits down on the floor to unlace his shoes. Watching him, Jinhyuk remembers a time when they were children when Wooseok refused to tie his shoes because he was only walking down the street to get to Jinhyuk’s place. It was a habit he didn’t shake until Jinhyuk chased him down the street and he fell flat on his face.

There’s already an empty spot for Wooseok’s shoes on the shoe rack. He and Minsoo never put anything there because they _know_ Wooseok will be there. It’s an unspoken rule that welcomes Wooseok into their apartment, into their lives. He doesn’t live with them, but he belongs there.

If Wooseok feels Jinhyuk’s eyes on him, burning, he doesn’t show any sign of noticing. He hums quietly under his breath as he unlaces his shoes and neatly places it onto the spot designated for him.

“Why are you just standing there?” Wooseok turns his head to look at him, finally.

There’s curiosity glimmering in Wooseok’s eyes and Jinhyuk can’t take his eyes away from him. As soon as their eyes meet, it feels like the world freezes around them and Jinhyuk doesn’t know what he’s supposed to think. He doesn’t know if it’s just him that feels it. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

It seems, his mind makes up the choice for him.

“I’m in love with you,” Jinhyuk blurts.

Wooseok blinks at him.

Jinhyuk can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He hears it in his ears and his body flushes with heat. He feels the heat prickling at the back of his neck and he wants to crumble.

_It wasn’t supposed to sound like that. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that._

“I know,” Wooseok replies. His lips curve into a small smile. He pushes himself up from the floor, standing in front of Jinhyuk. He looks up at him, eyes twinkling. “Did you think I didn’t know?”

Jinhyuk’s breath catches in the back of his throat. He doesn’t know how to respond.

“What?” he manages, brilliantly.

Wooseok laughs. He reaches out and adjusts the collar of Jinhyuk’s shirt. His fingers smooth out the fabric and stay. Jinhyuk can feel his fingertips burning through the material.

“You love me,” Wooseok says, a matter of fact.

Wooseok leans up to press a kiss to Jinhyuk’s cheek.

“Me too.”

It settles easily.

It settles just like that. Jinhyuk feels all of his concerns draining out of his body.

He doesn’t know when he lost sight of the fact that, with Wooseok, everything is simple.

In retrospect, it’s silly.

He tries to hide the stupid smile that takes over his expression. Jinhyuk pushes himself off the wall and grins, following Wooseok when the smaller man walks into his living room and flops onto the couch.

“I had a midterm yesterday,” Wooseok declares. “It sucked. So, you should pay for lunch.”

Jinhyuk drops onto the couch, right on top of Wooseok, caging the smaller man between his arms. He grins, knocking their foreheads together. Wooseok gives him a dirty look.

“Anything for my boyfriend.”

Wooseok knees him in the stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> ah yes, hello - it feels like it’s been a while since i’ve visited this tag. maybe we’ll meet again, soon.  
> if you so please, i can still be found on [twt](https://twitter.com/yuseokki).


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